Gotham Avengers (Part 2)

Last night, just as darkness fell, Batman stood atop the bell tower of Gotham Cathedral, staring down at the pitch-black alley beneath his feet.

Gotham’s rain, the umbrellas from Vickin Umbrella Shop, the Court of Owls, gunfire in a dark alley, a scattered pearl necklace…

Batman closed his eyes. Everything began to connect into a single thread in his mind, but many details remained unclear and required investigation.

In the end, he focused on Louis, the man who had hired someone to kill.

A black shadow leaped from the top of the church bell tower. Like a real bat, he passed through countless dark alleys and, amid flickering light and shadow, landed on the window of an attic.

Looking down through the skylight, he saw the aged Louis slumped in a chair. He was completely unable to move and could only barely survive on the piles of garbage around him.

When Batman entered the room, Louis showed no reaction. His eyes had gone blind and his ears deaf; he had no idea an uninvited guest had entered.

Unfortunately, Batman got no clues from him. Louis was too old. Not only did he suffer from dementia, but his body was also failing beyond recovery. He would likely not live another month. Batman could not possibly get anything out of a man like that, and Louis had long since turned this attic into a garbage dump, leaving nothing useful to be found.

Batman could only change targets and head for the Edward family’s old residence.

The Edward family had once been one of the Four Great Families of the East End, as famous as the Cobblepot family. However, unlike the Cobblepot family, they had not declined, mainly because they controlled the docks. With the docks as a guarantee, their ability to withstand risk far surpassed that of the other families.

Still, they had not escaped the Godfather’s reckoning. Old Edward was dead, and no one knew where the Godfather had sent Young Edward. The entire old residence had now been taken over by the Falcone family. However, Falcone did not value the place, so Batman entered the estate with almost no resistance.

The Edward residence was completely dark, without a single light, but that posed no problem for Batman. After a careful search, he finally found what he was looking for: an umbrella bearing the Vickin insignia.

In an office at Arkham Asylum, Batman placed two parts on the desk at the same time, then pointed to them and said to Schiller, "Look here. The burn marks are identical. The damage to your umbrella wasn’t an accident."

Schiller narrowed his eyes. Batman was right—the two parts had been damaged in exactly the same way. Their threads had both been burned away.

Normally, an umbrella was neither a firearm nor a shell. Even if Gotham fought miniature wars every day, the chances of an umbrella ending up on a battlefield were practically zero. Therefore, the most likely ways for an umbrella to break were for its ribs to snap, or for parts to loosen or fall off.

But it was absolutely impossible for one small component within an umbrella rib to burn out and cause the entire umbrella to fail.

Since Schiller did not know much about such things, when the back half of one of the umbrella ribs broke, he had assumed it was ordinary umbrella damage—a problem with the connecting section.

But thinking about it now, although Gotham rained every day, it was not actually very windy. The parts connecting the umbrella ribs were not subjected to that much force, yet it had broken completely.

Now, The Truth lay before him. The same type of umbrella, made by the same umbrella maker, had suffered the same damage to the same component. That could only mean one thing—everything had been premeditated.

"The Court of Owls is more evil than we imagined." Batman’s voice was low as he said, "They never intended to leave behind a single survivor. Every person in Gotham, whether they bought an umbrella or not, ultimately has only one fate…"

"And you must have realized something else." Schiller looked into Batman’s eyes and said, "Old Edward’s umbrella broke, so they went mad. No one could be allowed to talk about their hiring a killer. It wasn’t their madness that caused it."

Batman remained silent. From the moment he had obtained this umbrella, he had thought of that possibility. Schiller continued, "Clearly, you have a new target now, but that target is also about revenge, isn’t it?"

"If I can make all of them pay the price, then why keep pursuing only one of them?" Batman muttered softly.

"So you plan to join forces with Evans and Cobblepot to investigate?"

"They are the ones joining forces with me."

"I can understand you and Cobblepot…" Gordon looked at Batman and said. "After all, the two of you may have had family members murdered. But what about Evans? Why would Little Falcone involve himself in something like this?"

"According to him, the death of his older brother, Alberto Falcone, was inseparable from the Court of Owls."

Gordon froze upon hearing that. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Alberto Falcone? That name sounds familiar. I think I heard Harvey mention him…"

Then he shook his head and said, "It seems everyone avoids mentioning the Old Godfather’s eldest son. Brock only brought him up once, and when I pressed him for details, he refused to answer."

"Brock told me it was a name the Old Godfather did not wish to mention. Perhaps because of that, no one else dared to mention him either."

"Now that I think about it, it is indeed strange." Gordon said, quite puzzled. "Ten years ago, the Falcone family was even more powerful than it is now. Their heir should have been better protected back then. No one would have dared to touch him…"

"Except the Court of Owls."

"What do you plan to do?"

"We formed a temporary alliance to investigate this mysterious organization from different levels of Gotham society."

Batman’s tone finally changed slightly, and his helplessness could be heard. "When I began investigating, I discovered just how deeply they were hidden. Even with my resources, I searched all of Gotham City and found nothing useful."

Both Schiller and Gordon knew he meant the resources of Wayne Enterprises. If even Wayne Enterprises, with its immense presence in Gotham, could not find an organization after searching with all its strength, then the Court of Owls must have been deeply concealed indeed.

"So I have to borrow the strength of others." Batman explained, "Cobblepot is a criminal, but if the people he kills are members of the Court of Owls, then I am willing to work with him for the time being. He knows Gotham’s lower class well. Perhaps certain details are hidden in those dark corners."

"The Falcone family has ruled Gotham’s underworld for so many years. Every gang member is their eyes and ears. Evans may be able to uncover different clues as well."

"Once we find the target through cooperation, the alliance ends there. I do not need anyone to help me take revenge."

"Then what are you going to call this alliance? Even if it’s temporary, it should have a name, shouldn’t it?" Gordon asked Batman.

Batman fell silent for a moment. Schiller suddenly had a bad feeling, and then he heard Batman say, "I plan to call it the Avengers…"

"Wait!" Schiller interrupted him. "I advise you to reconsider. That name is unlucky…"

Batman looked at Schiller. Schiller’s expression was strange. Batman paused, then continued, "A name is only a codename. I never believed in superstition…"

"But the last organization to use that name split into two before it had even been active for long."

"We were never a group to begin with. I have no intention of forming any team with them. This is merely a temporary alliance. As for the name…" Batman unusually drew out the last word before saying, "Each of us has a grudge against the Court of Owls, so we are all Avengers. Therefore, it is called the Avengers. What is the problem?"

Batman saw Schiller reveal an expression more complicated than any he had ever seen before. Then he heard Schiller mutter in a low voice, "People who refuse to take advice never end well…"

At the same time, in the ward next to the office, Evans watched Cobblepot tinker with an umbrella.

"What are you doing?" Evans asked curiously. Sitting by the bed, he leaned forward to look. Without lifting his head, Cobblepot perfunctorily replied, "I’m making a weapon."

"A weapon?" Evans was even more confused. "You’re making a weapon out of an umbrella? Why not just use a gun?"

Cobblepot had no desire to pay attention to him. Over the past few days, he had already had enough of Evans.

If Cobblepot’s experiences over the last few days were written into an article, its title should have been, "How to Get Along with Someone I Completely Look Down On and Find Extremely Annoying."

Cobblepot had long told Schiller that he looked down on the Godfather’s son, Little Falcone, believing him to be a complete idiot. But when that idiot was transferred into the same ward as him, he discovered that Little Falcone was not only stupid, but also incredibly annoying.

Unlike Batman, Evans had a lively personality and talked a great deal. He was not sick in the first place; he had merely come here to lie low. He was in excellent condition during his stay and had no awareness whatsoever of being a patient. Whenever he had nothing to do, he would drag Cobblepot into conversation.

At first, Cobblepot had been willing to talk with him in order to extract information about the Falcone family. But later, Cobblepot discovered that Evans did everything except serious business.

Evans had a wide range of interests. He was skilled in art, could paint, understood vocal music and many instruments. He was especially adept at the cello and also played the violin quite well. He loved opera too, and could sing, dance, and act. When he had nothing else to do, he even practiced vocal exercises in the ward.

But whenever the conversation turned to matters related to the family business, Cobblepot’s assessment was that Evans was a fool who worshipped idealism.

After talking with Evans for several days, Cobblepot had gained nothing except a deeper understanding of music theory, which was utterly useless in Gotham. So in the following days, he could no longer be bothered to speak to Evans.

Evans stood up and walked over to Cobblepot’s side, watching him work. After a while, he asked, "It looks like you can’t modify that umbrella. Do you need any help?"

"No, I don’t." Cobblepot gave an umbrella rib a hard tug. A component shot out with a whoosh, and Evans covered his face with a pained cry. He shouted, "Hey! You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Be careful!"

"Damn it…" Cobblepot cursed. "There’s something wrong with this umbrella."

He picked up the whole umbrella and examined it, then said, "What material is this thing made of? Why are welding and cutting both useless against it?"

Evans leaned closer and touched the umbrella rib. Frowning, he said, "This doesn’t seem to be steel or anything like it. It feels strangely familiar…"

"Familiar?" Cobblepot turned toward him and asked, "Where have you seen something like this?"

Evans rubbed his chin as he thought. "I can’t remember clearly, but I really should have seen it before. Still, if you can’t modify this metal, then you probably can’t turn it into a weapon."

Cobblepot did not answer. He silently stared at the umbrella, seemingly lost in thought.